


Johnlock Song Oneshots

by ColourSherlockUnique



Series: Johnlock Song Oneshots [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:55:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3323162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColourSherlockUnique/pseuds/ColourSherlockUnique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Johnlock oneshots inspired by some of my favourite songs!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amnesia - 5 Seconds of Summer

_"I'm leaving, Sherlock."_

_"Leaving? What do you mean leaving?"_

_"You. I'm leaving...you."_

_"Why? I thought we were happy? We were getting married! Is it me?"_

_"No. It's not you. I met someone else. He's amazing and I'm happy with him. Please try to understand."_

_"Someone else? Please don't do this to me John. I need you! You make me feel, you made me human again."_

_"Goodbye Sherlock."_

 

Our last conversation kept replying in my head. I couldn't escape it. I glanced around the flat. It seemed too big now. John had come by and collected his stuff and now there was too much space where his belongings used to lay. I didn't have the energy to move. There didn't seem to be any reason to leave anymore. I spend hours in my mind palace, in the room that I created for John, trying to figure out if there was any logical reason as to why he would just up and leave. No matter how many scenarios I played through, none of them seemed to make sense to me. I thought that maybe someone was blackmailing him to do it, but he didn't show signs of distress. I didn't, wouldn't believe that he had found someone else. Was it my fault? Did I not pay enough attention to him? Did I push him away? We were going to married. In just a few weeks, I was going to be Sherlock Watson-Holmes. I thought I had finally found my reason. My reason to keep going. To keep fighting. To stay alive. He took that when he left.

My head was spinning from the thoughts of John. I couldn't take it. I wanted to forget. To wake up and have no recollection of what has passed. I wish I could go back to the days when I was alone. Before I had let John Watson into my life and into my heart. I managed to get off my chair and collapse on my bed. I curled up and pulled the sheets around me. His scent still lingered on them. I pulled them closer. Everytime I closed my eyes, I could see him laying there smiling up at me. I remembered how I used to lay awake just watch him sleep. He would always a have little smile etched on his face which never failed to make my heart race. I remember the way he used to mumble my name in the dead of night. The way his hair would stick in odd angles in the morning. All the little things he used to do kept whirring around in my brain.

The first week after he left was the worst. Lestrade had called with a case, a triple murder. I arrived at the crime scene in a state. I was a mess. I tried to act normal but to no prevail. Everyone kept asking where John was. How the hell was I supposed to explain that he had left me for someone else? I just glared at them and left. I think eventually John told them but I haven't answered any calls or texts since then. I can't face anyone. I slowly open eyes. The darkness engulfed me. I hated sleeping alone now. The bed was too big and too empty. I miss the feeling of him pressed up against me. The silence surrounded me threatening to crash down and swallow me.

I can't do this anymore. I can't go on without him. He brought me light. He brought me his warmth. He brought me life. Now he's left me to drown in the cold darkness.


	2. Payphone - Daniel Jang

**John**

3 months. 

3 months, 2 weeks.

3 months, 2 weeks and 5 days.

That's how long it had been since Sherlock had found out that I fallen for him. I had fallen hard. Everything about him absolutely astounded me. His ability to deduce anybody and spill their whole life story to them without caring whether they wanted to hear it or not. His complete lack of understanding for the emotions of others. There was nothing that I didn't admire about that man. Even his face managed to take my breath away. Whether he was sprawled out on the sofa in his mind palace or pacing around the flat in frustration, his face always said everything he didn't. The way the light hit his eyes making them shimmer and shine with excitement. The way his eyebrows knitted together when his deductions didn't come straight away to him. I admired him in so many ways. There aren't enough words to describe how Sherlock has changed my life.

When he spoke that night, months ago, he deduced my feelings for him. Sherlock had thought I had a date because I had dressed up a bit. For once I made a little effort, even if it was just to sit around and watch crap telly all evening. The one time I try, the sociopathic genius figures it out. Once he had come to the end of his observation I just stared blankly at him. There was nothing else I could do. I knew he didn't feel the same, so I muttered an apology and left. I laid on my bed thinking how I had just messed things up. Why John? Why did you have to make an effort? If I had just gone downstairs in a jumper, he would have never of noticed. We would still be talking and I would be pretending that there was nothing between us. However dreadful the situation between us is, I am ever so slightly relieved not to have to act around him anymore. It was difficult and tiring. I had contemplated leaving Baker Street so many times just because I couldn't handle the weight of the secret. It was crushing me and now it's come out, it has torn us apart. 

How long do we have to keep this up? The silence is screaming throughout the flat. I doubt Sherlock will have noticed, he's probably prancing around his mind palace. I want to speak to him but what do I say? We don't even speak at crime scenes anymore. We turned up together, Sherlock deduces and solves it and I talk to Greg, then we leave together. The quiet probably suits Sherlock fine. He's used to not speaking for days on end, so why would it bother him? It certainly bothers me. 

Sherlock is a truly incredible man. Which is probably why he hasn't so much as looked me in 3 months. Why would a highly intelligent guy like Sherlock ever be with a plain boring ex-army doctor like myself? He wouldn't. 

 

**Sherlock**

Why was this so hard? I admit, it wasn't my idea to completely ignore John for this amount of time but as the days passed by, it became harder and harder to speak to him. I know I should. Everytime I try to tell him all the things I have always wanted to say, they get lost. Stuck in my throat and I choke on them. I want John to know everything. John. Such an ordinary name for such an extraordinary man. There are no limits to his compassion, his empathy or his kindness. He saves me everyday. 

I have tried to tell him on different occasions but something usually gets in the way. I thought about telling him after Moriarty left us in the pool but I hadn't known him that long then. I didn't know whether he would disappear and I couldn't take that chance. He was my everything. He fixed me, brought me back to reality. I couldn't hide away by distracting myself with crimes. John always sees through me.

I remember that night 3 months ago. The night it all seemed to fall apart.

_John came in dressed for a date. He was obviously nervous and kept wiping his hands on his jeans. The smell of cologne assaulted my nose. 'I don't remember John mentioning a date. He doesn't have to tell you everything' Hmph. Even the voice in my head is against me. I really didn't like the idea of John going on another date. I especially hated it when he brought them back. I have pretend to care about them. That's what Lestrade said, anyway. Apparently friends do that. I don't want to. I want John. All to myself._

_I was dragged out of my thoughts by John bringing tea for us both. I was puzzled. It was 7.30, why wasn't he leaving for his date? He never leaves later than half seven so why is he drinking tea? Unless he doesn't have a date tonight. Possibly, but why is he dressed up? He's obviously trying to impress someone. If he's not going out, then that leaves two people. I highly doubt he would put his best clothes on to visit Mrs Hudson and do whatever they do. Which leaves...oh. No. Not possible. There is no way John is doing this for me. Wait, did we say we were going out to Angelo's? No. Then why?_

_"John. Do you have a date tonight?"_

_"No, why would you ask that?"_

_"You're nervous; you keep wiping the palms of your hands on your jeans. You are wearing cologne as well. Plus you are dressed up. So I came to the conclusion that you have a date. Though you haven't left yet. You would have left already if you were going out. Which means that you're trying to get someone's attention. It wouldn't be Mrs. Hudson. So that leaves me. Why are you trying to get my attention, John?"_

I hadn't noticed on the night because my mind was reeling from the fact John had feelings for me but looking back on it now, John's face wasn't etched with shock or disgust like I would have expected. It was bright red and he was completely embarrassed. That confirms the fact that he does have feelings for me. After I had finished my deduction of him, he mumbled that he was sorry and walked up to his room. I haven't spoke to him since. Does John think that I don't reciprocate the feeling? Obviously. What have I done that would make him think that? I constantly brush him off, I isolate myself and he still sticks around. I don't deserve his feelings towards me. What do I do with them? Do I just lock them away in my mind palace or act on them? Normally I'd ask John but I think I'm going to have to figure this out on my own.  I wish John would just tell me what I need to do in this situation. I would be completely lost without John. Why is this so hard?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They both sat there, in the deafening silence of the living room. John was in his chair staring into the cold remains of his tea whilst every so often glancing up at Sherlock to watch how the weak evening sunlight danced around his ebony curls, showing a multitude of colours in their wake. Whilst Sherlock laid on the sofa, his hands steepled under his chin. He could feel John's eyes roaming his body but he showed no movement, enjoying the awkward intimacy of the moment. 

Neither knew how or when to break the silence. John knew it should be considering he only gave Sherlock a mumbled sentence and left when he had asked him. Sherlock knew it should be him. He had figured out John's feelings towards him and done nothing. He hadn't offered John any words or actions. He wanted to. He wanted to find the courage to show his feelings to John. It came to him. The solution to both their problems. The violin.

John tensed in his chair as Sherlock's sudden movements startled him. He watched as Sherlock picked up his violin and played. John didn't know whether he should stay and listen. As if on cue, Sherlock locked his eyes with John's and started to play. He let everything he had felt come pouring out in a melody that surrounded them both. John knew immediately what Sherlock was doing and didn't dare do anything. He just gazed into the crystal blue eyes John had become accustomed to. They were studying him now, looking, searching for a sign that John understood what Sherlock was trying to portray through the music. All the unspoken words that had been crushing them both for months finally broke free. Leaving them both to finally see each other clearly.

Sherlock held the last note as long as he could, not wanting the song to end. He didn't want to know John's thoughts in case they crushed him. He had never let himself become this vulnerable before, and it was terrifying. He had completely opened himself to John. John had the power to do anything. The one person who could truly destroy Sherlock Holmes.

John stood in awe. He had no idea Sherlock could produce such heartfelt material. He had paid such attention to the music. He listened intently as the pitch rose and fell; notes were elongated and dropped. John could feel the emotion dripping out of every stroke of the bow. He understood why Sherlock hadn't said anything for months. There was no words that could do those emotions justice. 

John watched as Sherlock finally let the last note quiver in the air and fade into silence. Sherlock's hands fell to his sides, bow and violin still in his grasp. John carefully put down his cup on the table, not wanting the clinking of china to break the remnants of the song playing through his mind. Both their eyes locked on each other, everything either of them had ever wanted to say being said without uttering a single word.

Slowly, John rose up out of his chair. Sherlock tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, scared John was going to walk out again. Sherlock's brain went into overdrive as he contemplated a life without John. What would he do without John? Without his constant light to keep Sherlock from slipping into the darkness again? John could see the struggle on his flatmate's face and cautiously walked towards him.

Standing barely centimetres apart, Sherlock moved his head towards John's. John took the opportunity to wrap his arms around his neck as Sherlock let his violin and bow tumble out of his hands in order for them to curl around John's waist. They both paused slightly before gently pressing their lips together for the first time. John exploded inside. It was everything that he had imagined and more. Sherlock never knew love could feel this way. It was pure. It was what he had needed all these years and John Watson had been the one to make him see. They broke apart, smiled etched on both their faces as they beheld the happiness and wonder racing through each other eyes.     


End file.
